


In A Flash of Faith

by allegra_vera



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, Canon Related, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-01-25 04:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21350335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allegra_vera/pseuds/allegra_vera
Summary: Evelyn just wanted the world to listen to reason. Now she's been given the opportunity to be that voice, to fight the void. Her advisors are there to help her find her way, her inner circle to make sure she doesn't forget herself. And then there's Cullen to take her hand when the darkness encroaches. With any luck, she'll banish his demons too.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Prisoner

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Hey everyone! Welcome to my first Dragon Age story. I expect this one to go on for a bit, and stay mostly true to canon but not entirely (cause what fun would that be?) A series of events in the main game from different persepectives, some moments in between, and a slowburning romance between Cullen and a female Trevelyan mage Inquisitor. Enjoy!
> 
> Reviews appreciated, flames used to roast marshmallows, you know the drill.
> 
> ~Insert usual disclaimer about not owning the original content and only playing with it for a while, promising to return it in (mostly) one piece. Not getting paid, etc etc.~

Everything was chaos. Then darkness. Then chaos again before darkness claimed her for what Evelyn Trevelyan thought would be the last time.

It wasn't, but waking up made her really wish it had been. Her head pounded; her shoulders ached from the stiff iron shackles that made her wrists numb. _Maker's breath..._ she mused, _I'm numb in places I didn't know could become numb._ The guards around her kept their swords pointed at her in silence as a strange green mark flared to life on her left hand, and Evelyn was left to pray that whatever was dripping down her back was just water.

Stars exploded behind her eyes as a woman in full armour with blazing eyes burst into her cell as if she were trying to take the wrought iron straight from its hinges.

Evelyn's head spun as the Seeker's accusations flew. She wanted nothing more than to give her answers, but the only thing her mind gave her when she cast it back to the Conclave was darkness.

As she was lead outside, it was both the mark and the sight of the Breach that brought her to her knees. Her racing thoughts, however, are what kept her there.

_Everyone is dead. What if it is my fault? What if something I did tore open the sky? Why? I didn't want any of this. I just wanted peace. I wanted the world back._

The racing thoughts were only amplified by the Seeker's revelation that the mark was killing her, and the people who had chained her here wanted her help. Chains, metaphorically speaking, were nothing new to Evelyn of course, but the Templars at the Ostwick circle never even looked at her let alone asked her for help.

Silence.

_Breathe, Evelyn. Like the Enchanters taught you._

The Seeker, Cassandra, was staring at her intently, awaiting her answer. As if it were that simple. That thing in the sky, the Breach, was a threat of world-ending proportions, she understood that. But all this... the Circle was no paradise, for sure, but it had been quiet. It had been safe. The war turned everything on its head. While she knew nothing would ever be normal again, all Evelyn wanted was for a reason to return to a land gripped by madness. This Conclave had been her opportunity to make her voice heard – an opportunity she'd been resigned to on being informed she'd been selected for the delegation. It wasn't necessarily her choice, but her known even temper and family name certainly played a part in the Grand Enchanters decision. Now, all of the others who had come to sort out this mess were dead. Those left were left stranded, looking for anything to cling to. A hero to save them or a villain to blame.

As her mind calmed, she saw the faces of the villagers of Haven, of Cassandra and her guards. They were worn down, desperate; it was in that desperation they chose her to blame.

"I understand," Evelyn said, steeling both her resolve and her gaze into the Seeker's eyes.

And she did. These people needed hope. It's what drove them to blame her – hope that everything could be avenged, if not put right. If she could help, if she could give these people some small hope to cling to, then she would. Even if that meant they hated her.

"Then..?" Cassandra asked hesitantly as if she weren't sure what she was hearing.

"I'll do whatever I can to help," Evelyn confirmed, watching relief flood the other woman's face.

* * *

Doing "whatever she could to help" entailed frying the demons falling out of the Breach and fielding questions from a very enthusiastic and inquisitive dwarf. The elven mage, Solas, spoke little though she sensed he knew much more about the rifts and the Fade than he initially told either her or Cassandra. There wasn't time to question him now, however. Her curiosity would have to wait until after to be sated. If there was to be an 'after' for her, that was.

The forward camp was full of activity – soldiers bustling about trying to hold everything together by mere threads. Over the din of the camp, however, two distinct voices could be heard. Evelyn glanced up slightly as she refilled her small supply of potions to see the other woman that had interrogated her, Leliana, arguing with a man in Chantry garb.

"Politics..." she grumbled under her breath, as they neared the table.

Varric looked at the silver-haired mage, a smirk crossing his lips, "Oh just wait, Evelyn. It gets better."

Evelyn sorely doubted that, given the gleam in the dwarf's eye as he said it.

* * *

Chancellor Roderick had been about as pleasant as she'd expected, but she didn't expect him to brush off the threat of the Breach so easily. She shook her head in mild disgust but walked off her head held high with her newfound companions at her back as they made for the mountain pass. The quicker they got this mess dealt with, the better. Her body still ached, fuelled only by adrenaline, and no small amount of fear. Be it fear for herself, her allies or the soldiers she sent to fight in the valley below, she didn't know. It kept Evelyn moving through the frigid mountains though, and that's what mattered.

Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach when they found the bodies of the scouts at the exit of the old mining tunnel, barely allowing herself to hope when Cassandra said it couldn't be all of them. Too many people had died, but somehow, she trudged on. Maybe because of that. She didn't know. All Evelyn knew is that she'd seen too much fighting, too much death since reluctantly fleeing the Ostwick Circle. The joy she should have felt about finally exploring Thedas was marred by the blood, fire and destruction that the mages and templars had both wrought. Perhaps there if they were successful here, there would still be some left to explore once the blood had been washed clean.

* * *

Commander Cullen Rutherford looked up at the sky and cursed under his breath. The fighting had come to a blissful if tentative, lull as both the scouts rescued from the pass by Cassandra and her new tag-alongs and one of Leliana's scouts brought word of their advancement to the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

_At least something is going our way_, he mused, wiping his sword clean and readjusting the mantle of thick red fur around his shoulders.

Calling his second-in-command Rylen over to him Cullen clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm leaving this camp under your command. I'm going to take a few of the men up to the Temple. Seeker Cassandra and the prisoner have already arrived. Maker willing, this will all be put to an end today."

Rylen nodded, a quick "Yes, sir!" leaving his lips before he turned to round up a few of the soldiers who were still in fighting condition to follow the Commander.

As the small party made it to the entrance of the Temple, the sounds of fighting and the roaring of demons reached his ears. Suppressing the shudder that rippled down his spine at the all too familiar sound of a Pride demon, he urged his men forward, sword drawn. Silently he offered a prayer that trusting the prisoner had been the right choice, that he wouldn't enter the burning temple to find the bodies of his new comrades – dare he say friends? - dead on the floor. He'd done his best to channel his fear into something greater. After Kinloch that had meant protecting the world from mages. After Kirkwall, that had shifted to protecting the innocent, those that fought with him, those caught in the mess that was the crumbling control of the Chantry, the foundation of prejudice that so many, including himself, had built their lives around. Upon being called to investigate the woman that had fallen out of a rift, upon realizing she was a mage, he'd been forced to confront that again.

_That's not who you are anymore, Rutherford,_ he told himself, _taking another step towards the entrance, not the man you want to be._

The courtyard was lit by an eerie green light, and his eyes searched the open space for the Seeker and her group, but everything had gone quiet. Cassandra shouted to a silver-haired woman that could be none other than the prisoner he'd carried down this very mountain not three days ago. She held a staff in one hand, and the other bearing the mark was outstretched towards the rift. It connected, and he felt the magic explode around her, so strong that it almost made him take a step back. The woman fell to her knees, and the rift shattered.

The energy shot back up to the sky, and it was as if the Breach itself shuddered as the world took a breath. The magic was abruptly gone as if a massive Purge had been cast over them, and just as abruptly a wave of force knocked everyone back and rippled across the sky.

Cullen had a great view of the sky, laying on his back as the wind returned to his lungs. No more demons fell, and the hole, although still there, seemed calmer and more stable than before. The Commander struggled to his feet and sheathed his sword before walking over to the prone figure of the prisoner mage.

Cassandra beat him to her, however, hastily checking to see if the other woman was still alive. A soft sigh visibly relaxed her shoulders and she nodded to her other two companions that stood anxiously nearby, "She's alive, but barely. We must get her back to Haven."

Solas nodded before looking up at the sky, "I believe the Breach is stable for now. How long that will last, I cannot say without further study. But..." he paused slightly, "that can wait until Evelyn is safe. I want to ensure her mark will stabilize now as well."

Watching from a short distance away, Cullen felt that it wasn't his place to interrupt or interject. Varric made that choice for him, "You're late, Curly. Missed out on all the fun."

The Commander frowned down slightly at the dwarf; even though it seemed as if there had been no more casualties, this was far from what he would consider fun.

Seeing the look that he was getting, Varric continued, "Don't worry, your people are safe. _She_ made sure of that."

The last words were tinged with venom to hide the worry that was clear in the dwarfs' eyes. Cullen supposed that it wasn't wholly undeserved either. He'd demanded justice just as loudly as the rest, his mistrust of mages resurfacing and colouring his words and thoughts more than it should have.

"It would seem she is good at that," he bit out.

He clenched his jaw. He wasn't a Templar anymore, and this woman had almost singlehandedly saved their lives when they'd given her every reason not to. The scouts she'd saved, the soldiers at the gates near Haven and even those at the forward camp had whispered their thanks, wondering how a person who had helped them so could be responsible for the explosion at Conclave. Meanwhile, he'd only thought of her as a prisoner. A pet project for the apostate Solas to use to close the rifts. The thought made him uncomfortable and made him approach the group more timidly than he otherwise would.

Cassandra and Leliana were discussing the best way for them to move the catatonic mage back to the camp when they finally noticed him approach. Both looked up in surprise, as Cullen simply knelt next to Evelyn's unconscious form and lifted her gingerly into his arms.

"You said there's no time to waste, right? Let's go. My men can stay here for now and then we can organize proper watches once we're back at camp."

Both women just looked at each other and shrugged slightly, following the Commander back to the entrance of the temple. The two of them walked ahead, talking quietly about what they'd seen and heard from the echoes of the Fade. Cullen, meanwhile, studied the woman who lay still motionless in his arms. If it was possible, she was even lighter than the first time he'd brought her down this godforsaken mountain. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, and he only hoped she'd survive until someone could help her in Haven. The last thing he wanted was to walk into town with a corpse in his arms.


	2. Herald

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like the writing gods have smiled on me, so here's chapter two! As always, I hope you enjoy.  
Reviews appreciated; flames used to roast marshmallows, you know the drill.
> 
> ~Insert usual disclaimer about not owning the original content and only playing with it for a while, promising to return it in (mostly) one piece. Not getting paid, etc etc.~

It wasn't a celebration, but there was a certain renewal of life and vigour that could be felt throughout Haven. Solas confirmed that the Breach was stable, but it remained a threat. Scouts from the Hinterlands reported the fighting between the mages and the Templars was escalating, while there were still rifts spitting out demons they didn't have the manpower to deal with. With the unrest in the Hinterlands, as well as the injured soldiers back in Haven, Cullen had his hands full. More and more now it looked like the Inquisition would be properly formed, though Chancellor Roderick was very loudly and vehemently against the idea, despite Cassandra and Leliana's best efforts to make the man see reason. Cullen for his part had kept to the training grounds as he found the clash of swords and shields less strenuous on his nearly incessant headaches than the Chancellor's babbling.

He didn't know if it was the fact that he was so close to the Breach or the shock from the magic of the closing of the rift, but it felt as if his lyrium withdrawal symptoms were hitting him harder than usual. Headaches mostly right now, but the nightmares since he witnessed the closing of the rift had been most unusual. It was the demons, as always, but the lifeless eyes that stared back at him were emerald, almost the same colour as the rifts, of the mark on the hand of the woman that most had taken to calling the Herald of Andraste.

The little voice in the back of his head kept nagging him, telling him that maybe it was guilt, not lyrium that fuelled these dreams. After all, he'd thought of her as nothing more than a tool, a prisoner mage for whom a lot of good men had died to get to the rift – on the hunch of an apostate. The more he thought about just how _wrong_ he was, about how all his past prejudices had come to haunt him, the less the thought that it was something other than the lyrium causing all this mess in his head comforted him. Even though the one they called the Herald was finally out of the woods and on her way to recovery – or so he assumed given the decreasing frequency of the alchemist Adan's frustrated stomping out of the cottage – Cullen hoped he could find a way to make it up to her. Even if just to prove to himself that his past could be overcome.

Unfortunately, the news that their saviour was on the mend had made the people all the more anxious and excitable. Cullen had been forced to set up round the clock watches outside of the small cottage where the young woman had laid unconscious for the better part of three days. Mostly to protect her from people who wanted to come in and worship her, but also from the few that would cause trouble, no doubt incited by Roderick's cries of heresy.

Varric had informed him that she was actually the youngest daughter of House Trevelyan, of Ostwick in the Free Marches. To say he was surprised was an understatement. The name Trevelyan carried weight in the Chantry, especially among the Templars. He knew that many of the family ranked fairly high up in the order, so it was little surprise they'd keep the knowledge that there was a mage in the main branch of the family a secret. From what he'd heard whispered amongst the Gallows, he didn't think they had much of an opinion of magic.

Cullen shrugged the intrusive thoughts away. He had little time to think of such things with Roderick threatening to bring the Chantry's proverbial axe down on all their necks, but especially that of Lady Trevelyan. Even as Haven began to settle into a new semblance of routine, it would seem some would always try to disrupt even the most fragile peace.

His most immediate concern, of course, was the rifts he kept getting reports of. His soldiers were on the mend but without the ability to close the rifts... He cut off his train of thought. Trevelyan wasn't a tool; she had her own will. Maker willing, if – _when_** – **she awoke, she'd still be willing to help them. The Commander wasn't a politician, but he'd been in service to the Chantry long enough to know that they would likely denounce the Inquisition when the Seeker invoked its inauguration. Then they would stand alone against all the chaos of Thedas.

* * *

Waking up this time wasn't nearly as unpleasant after the explosion of Conclave. There were pillows beneath her head, and at least she wasn't kneeling on a stone floor, Maker knows what dripping down her back. No shackles, roof over her head, fire crackling to her left. All in all, not a bad way to wake up. Of course, Evelyn reasoned that this was likely the calm before the storm: either she was dead, or this was her last bit of grace before that abrasive Chancellor shipped her off to Val Royeaux.

Just as she was about to sit up, the mage started at the sight of a young elven girl. She was carrying a crate of supplies and judging by the small jump that the servant gave when she noticed Evelyn staring at her, she hadn't realized the occupant of the simple bed was awake.

"I'm sorry, milady. I didn't realize you were awake."

Evelyn could see the poor girl was trembling as the crate fell to the wooden floor with a thud. She sat up as quickly as her aching body would let her, trying to reassure the elf.

"No need to apologize, I'm sorry," she said softly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

A flush quickly rose to her cheeks as the servant fell to her knees, short-cropped brown hair brushing the floor as she bowed her head.

"Please forgive me, your ladyship, I am but a humble servant," the elf babbled, "The hole in the sky stopped growing, as did the mark on your hand. It's all anyone has talked about for three days!"

_Well, this is a change – for better or worse I wonder? At least... at least the mark worked then, maybe there's still some hope to be had, _Evelyn mused, trying to ignore the discomfort at being treated with such reverence. As the youngest child of a noble house, she wasn't a stranger to servants, but she'd always been treated with less reverence than her elders. It didn't bother her, and after being taken to the Circle at a young age, she was free of noble life for the most part. Evelyn liked it that way – the fewer social functions she had to attend, or suitors to avoid the better.

Ever the pragmatist, she inquired softly, gazing at her hands, "I suppose a trial happens now then?"

The shy elf stood up and began to back towards the door, "I don't know anything about that, milady. But Seeker Cassandra wanted to know as soon as you awoke. She's in the Chantry and wanted to see you at once. At once, she said!"

Just as silently as she'd come in, the elf was gone. The gust of cold air that blew in as she swept out the door served to chase the remaining fatigue from Evelyn's body. Finally, alone for what felt like the first time in years, she took a breath and took in her surroundings. The smell of burning wood wrapped her like a warm blanket; the living arrangements were simple but cozy. She spied a chest that likely held her belongings, and her staff was propped up on the wall near it. Walking over to it, the wood floor creaked under her stockinged feet, the soft material of the clothing she'd been given whispering as she moved. The mage winced as she moved: it felt like a mule had kicked her several times over. Retrieving her armour from the chest, she pulled it on gingerly, observing some notes that a healer had left lying on the small desk near the window.

_Well, for a healer he seems to have little bedside manner,_ Evelyn remarked to herself as she began to hear an increase in activity coming from outside her door. _Maker, don't let it be an angry mob..._

Her hand hovered near her staff as the prayer crossed her mind, but ultimately, she decided to leave it there. Cassandra had remarked as much on the frozen lake – she didn't need it to defend herself. Maker's breath she didn't want it to come to that. There was something bigger going on that they should all focus on from the sounds of it. If the Breach was still open, that meant that the mark was still needed. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep that Chancellor from carting her off to Val Royeaux.

The clamour outside her door was growing, and she could pick up movement through the window. She took one last look at herself in the mirror – her silver hair picking up hints of green from the light coming off the Breach, the same light that matched her eyes. Running a finger over the scar that sliced through the left side of her lip, she mused about how disconcerting it all was before moving to the door.

Evelyn could almost feel the hush that fell over the assembly outside her door as she pulled it open ever so slightly. Heaving a sigh, she opened it the rest of the way and stepping out in one gesture. She saw most of the people gathered were scouts, some soldiers filing into the back interspersed with civilians and Chantry folk. All of them had their heads bowed in reverence, the soldiers saluting her with hands over their hearts.

Her cheeks reddened, and not just from the cold. A knot of anxiety tied itself in her stomach, and she felt her breath quicken before it caught in her throat.

_At least they're not trying to kill you yet, Ev._

She noted that another person in her position, especially a mage in the current climate, would revel in this attention, but Evelyn just wished the ground would just open up and swallow her whole. She could feel the blackness closing in on her vision as the panic of so many eyes being on her grew.

Breath in. Breath out. Feeling some of the tension ease Evelyn scanned the crowd once more, looking for any sense of normalcy in this new environment. Slowly, her eyes lighted on a figure who had propped himself up on the wooden wall near a set of stone steps. His head wasn't bowed, his amber eyes simply observed her with a distance she was familiar with. He reminded her of the templars at the Circle, aloof from their charges, but always watching. It was a breath of familiarity amongst the madness. The mantle of red fur ruffled in the wind, Evelyn noted that it reminded her somewhat of a lion – regal, radiating an aura of protective vigilance.

Feeling calmer now, she gave the man a slight nod, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she squared her shoulders and stepped forward. The mask of serenity she had created from years of Circle training slipped into place as she stepped forward into the crowd to make her way to the Chantry.

_They're still just looking for hope, _a small voice in the back of her mind said, _and you're still their best bet. That mark on your hand, from Andraste or not, is the only thing that can close the Fade rifts._

It was something to hold onto, at least.

* * *

"The Herald is awake!"

An excited murmur began to ripple through the village and caught Cullen's attention. His soldiers training around him paused, looked to him expectantly. Even Rylen was looking at him earnestly. With a short sigh, Cullen shrugged, "Go on. Make sure no one starts any trouble and come straight back!"

As the soldiers scurried off, the Commander followed them at a more leisurely pace. He was sure of their ability to handle anything that the crowd could come up with but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious to see the "Herald of Andraste" for himself.

The villagers, soldiers, and Chantry clerics had arranged themselves along either side of the road, heads bowed. The wooden door creaked open slightly, and a hush fell over the crowd. Cullen watched, having leaned himself against the wall near the steps, as the woman's eyes widened in shock at her reception. He followed the same emerald eyes that haunted his dreams as they ran nervously over the crowd, before eventually meeting his.

The Commander felt a moment of self-consciousness wash over him, as he realized that he was the only one who didn't bow to her. Would he seem ungrateful? From the look on her face, she didn't seem to be the type to expect reverence, or whatever other praise these people seemed so eager to foist on her. The discomfort passed however when he saw the relief flood her face, something like recognition flashing in her eyes as she gave him a small smile.

As she squared her shoulders and schooled her features into a practiced serenity, Cullen pushed himself off the wall to return to the training grounds. Cassandra would likely send for him soon, with the Herald awake and her chance to throw Roderick out in the snow at hand.

Rylen and the other soldiers trickled back to the training ground, and Cullen returned to his paperwork, trying not to let the woman's green eyes or shy smile distract him, ignoring the sense of relief washing over him that she'd pulled through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I had more to write for this chapter but I thought I should keep them all about the same length. If you want longer chapters, let me know!
> 
> ~Autumn


	3. Heretic

Evelyn could hear the raised voices of Cassandra and the Chancellor through the Chantry as she approached the door at the end of the main hall. From the sounds of it, Roderick had not given up on having her executed in Orlais for blowing up Conclave. Which at this point she thought it would be obvious she hadn't done.

_What if it was you?_

Despite the vision from the Fade, doubt still nagged at her mind. Evelyn pushed it away with a shake of her head. Later. She could worry about the past after the present was more secure.

Her hand trembled as she reached out to grasp the door handle. Taking a moment to steel herself, Evelyn pushed open the door with an air of far more confidence than she felt.

The room held only three people aside from the guards at the door. The irate Chancellor, still in his same Chantry garb as the last time she saw him, stood behind a long wooden table laden with maps. Next to him, Seeker armour shining dully in the candlelight, was Cassandra, her short black hair tied up in a braid that circled her head like an onyx crown. Leliana stood off to the end, grey eyes focused on the Chancellor as she toyed with the cowl that hid her copper hair. The long chainmail tunic the former bard wore barely made a sound as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. They still looked prepared for war, and Evelyn guessed that she'd have a part to play yet in whatever they planned.

All three looked up as Evelyn entered, the two Seeker guards behind her.

It took everything Evelyn had to not falter as the Chancellor turned his ire onto her as soon as she set one leather booted foot over the threshold.

"Chain her and prepare the prisoner for transport to Val Royeaux!" Roderick barked to the Seeker guards standing at the door.

Evelyn paused, arching an eyebrow before the Seeker dismissed the guards with a simple, "Disregard that and leave us."

The mage could practically see the steam coming out of Chancellor Roderick's ears as the other two women closed in on him. Evelyn would be lying if she said she didn't take some small pleasure in seeing him squirm, as if he were vastly out of his element.

"After everything we've done, I'm still a suspect?"

Roderick rounded on her, beady eyes boring into hers, "Of course you are - "

"The Breach is still a threat," Cassandra cut in, "and as long as it remains, it cannot be ignored."

"Not to mention someone was behind the explosion at Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect," Leliana interjected, "Maybe they died with the others – or have accomplices that yet live."

Roderick was sputtering, "You're... you're considering me a suspect?"

Leliana inclined her head, "You, and many others."

"But not her?"

Evelyn bristled at the indignation in the Chancellor's voice, _Ah yes, because a mage is such a bloody inconvenience for you and your Chantry, she could never actually just be looking to help._

Before the thoughts could make their way out her mouth however, she bit her tongue. It was unfair, she knew. But by the Maker, the man made it hard to like him.

"I heard the voices in the Temple, Chancellor. Most Holy called to her for help. I do believe she's innocent," the Seeker concluded forcefully, as Evelyn flashed her a grateful smile.

"So, her survival, the thing on her hand, all this is just a what? A coincidence?"

_If he keeps on like this, he's going to burst a blood vessel_, Evelyn mused, certain she could see one about to pop right out of his wrinkled forehead.

"Providence, sent by the Maker to us in our darkest hour," Cassandra stated calmly.

Evelyn felt the tightness rise in her chest again. From Thedas' most wanted to holy saviour. Great. Just... great.

She tried to squash down the anxiety for the second time today by focusing on something she had control over.

"What do you need me to do? I did what I could last time – it nearly killed me," she tried to hide the uncertainty and trembling she could feel in her voice.

"The Breach remains, and the mark on your hand is still our only hope of closing it," Leliana spoke softly.

The Chancellor bristled once again, "This is not your decision!"

Thud.

Everyone turned their gaze to the heavy, leather-bound tome that Cassandra had slammed down on the table in front of the Chancellor.

"You know what this is, Chancellor. A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act," the Seeker's eyes blazed with fire and conviction, "As of this moment I declare the Inquisition reborn. We will close the Breach; we will find out who is behind this and we will restore order to Thedas. With, or without your approval."

Roderick's scowl said enough as he took one, then two steps back before storming out the door.

Cassandra stared after him as Leliana spoke to the Inquisitor, "This is the Divine's directive. Rebuild the Inquisition of old, find those who would stand against the chaos."

Evelyn nodded mutely. This was a lot to take in at once, and she was pretty sure her headache was coming back. One step at a time, one day at a time. Regardless of whether Andraste is actually with me or not, there are people who need help.

"We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support."

Cassandra nodded, "We are on our own, maybe forever. But we must act now, with you at our side."

* * *

The Chantry used to be a place of hope, of solace. After everything that happened at the Gallows, however, Cullen wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to look at it the same way again. Just as he was about to reach for the door to the massive building, it flew open. Narrowly avoiding being slammed in the face by a heavy slab of wood and iron, the Commander sidestepped the furious Chancellor as he blew past, leaving a string of curses in his wake.

A smirk played at Cullen's lips as he strode inside. The inside of the Chantry was quiet, now that the Chancellor had left. Josephine's door was closed, but he had no doubt she'd been summoned just as he had. The door to the 'war room' as they'd taken to calling it was open and Leliana's lilting voice floated out into the main hall, followed by Cassandra's forceful tone. He propped himself up in the doorway silently, waiting for their conversation to end.

"We are on our own, maybe forever. But we must act now, with you at our side."

He watched as Evelyn chewed her bottom lip in thought. Eventually, she spoke, voice calm and soft, "If you really are trying to restore order to Thedas-"

"That's the plan, yes," Leliana interjected.

The mage paused, mulling everything over. Cassandra and Leliana both looked at her expectantly, and eventually, she spoke, a soft smile gracing her features, "I would be happy to help, in that case."

Cullen let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as Evelyn and Cassandra shook hands. Taking his first full step into the room, the soft rustling and clinking of his armour gave away his presence.

"Ah, Evelyn this is Commander Cullen Rutherford. I believe the last time you met you were unconscious," Leliana introduced the young woman with a sly glint in her eyes.

Evelyn met the Commander's eyes with caution and curiosity.

_Unconscious? Does she mean in a cell or at the Temple? _Her gaze slid to Leliana, trying to gauge the look in her grey eyes. _And what's with that look she's giving me?_

Remembering her manners, Evelyn extended her hand for him to shake, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Commander. I look forward to working with you."

"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure," he replied, taking her much smaller hand in his own.

His breath hitched slightly as he held her hand – she was much more disarming when conscious and speaking to him. Her lips quirked slightly as if she were about to say something before thinking better of it and stepping back. He eyed the scar through her lip – it wasn't from the Temple, it was too old. He thought the Ostwick Circle was quiet, too quiet for her to have gotten a scar like that there, surely?

Josephine's entrance behind him broke his train of thought, as the well-dressed Antivan slipped behind him to take her place at the table. Cullen followed her lead, dropping Evelyn's hand with one final gentle squeeze.

"This is everyone then," Cassandra said, standing beside the Herald, "you've met Leliana – our spymaster," the woman in question rolled her eyes at the Seeker's lack of discretion, "and Commander Cullen who is in charge of our forces, as you've no doubt guessed," Cullen simply nodded and Cassandra carried on, "And finally this is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador," she finished, motioning to the caramel-skinned woman in gilded clothing.

The Ambassador held a writing board in one hand, the candle illuminating her face as she fiddled with a pen in the other. She gave Evelyn a quick nod in greeting.

Evelyn nodded to each of them in turn, emerald eyes appraising the assembled advisors. "Those are some impressive titles. I look forward to working together to close the Breach – and to whatever comes after that."

"They've taken to calling you the Herald of Andraste," Cullen observed, with a glint in his eye.

Evelyn shook her head, "I don't know about being chosen by Andraste. I just want to help close the Breach, and get Thedas back to a semblance of normalcy" she glanced at Cassandra, "As I said before: I'm willing to help, whatever it takes."

"We have our work cut out for us," Cassandra shook her head, "no time like the present to get started."

The group around the table nodded and made to depart.

"It was nice to finally meet you, Lady Trevelyan," Josephine bowed to Evelyn before sweeping out the door, pen already scratching at the paper on her writing board.

Leliana followed suit, "I will send word to both the rebel mages in Redcliffe, and the Templar Order to see if they will meet with us. I would also suggest sending scouts out to the Hinterlands – there seems to be growing unrest that I believe we should keep an eye on."

Evelyn nodded, "I believe the more we know at this point the better. As long as we don't draw too much attention to ourselves until we're better prepared."

"They'll be discreet, Herald. I'll send them out as soon as they can be adequately outfitted."

Still fighting to keep everything straight as everyone swept into action around her, Evelyn watched the spymaster's retreating back. Only Cullen remained at the table, eyes distant and lost in thought as he leant over the map in front of him. Seeing everyone had things to do - Cassandra already had her nose deep in the Divine's orders - the mage decided to take her leave. A hand on her arm stopped her just outside the door.

"I'm glad you're alright," the Commanders soft voice drew her gaze to her left, where he kept his hand just above her elbow, "I was... concerned that I'd be carrying a corpse into Haven after you closed the rift at the Temple."

The woman froze. He'd carried her down from the Temple? That would explain Leliana's earlier comment, she supposed.

The world seemed to slow down, if only for a moment in the quiet of the Chantry hall. Evelyn took the moment to observe the man in front of her. He stood about a head taller than her with golden hair to complement his amber eyes. His strong features were made more intimidating by a scar running through the upper half of his lip, the lines of his face hardened by war. The armour he wore wasn't that of a templar, she noted, but it was well made and well kept. The plate and chain were partially covered by a loose brown tunic trimmed in gold, and the ever-present red fur mantle. The Commander stood with an easy readiness she could recognize in any trained soldier, one leather-gloved hand resting on the pommel of his sword.

_You could have picked worse arms to almost die in, Ev_, she thought, though she immediately quashed the thought – as if she had time for such things.

Blinking a couple of times, she realized she'd simply been staring at the Commander without saying anything. A flush rising to her cheeks, she looked down at her boots before meeting Cullen's gaze, "I-I thank you. I owe you. Really."

It wasn't as eloquent as she'd intended, nor did it do the depth of her gratitude justice, but she was rewarded with a small smile. "Of course. I try not to leave my allies dying on a mountainside when possible."

They continued walking toward the entrance of the Chantry, a comfortable silence settling between them. The question that had been on her lips in front of the others bubbled up unbidden.

"You don't wear the armour of a templar, Commander. Did you leave the order?" Evelyn glanced at him out of her periphery, but quickly retracted her question when he didn't immediately respond, "I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to pry."

"How did you know?" Cullen asked voice guarded.

He stopped near the front doors of the Chantry and turned to Evelyn. It wasn't that he didn't want her to know, but Cullen wanted to leave his past as far behind him as he could. The woman standing before him was a mage, the last thing he wanted was for his past as a templar to colour her perception of him. She'd come from a Circle, he doubted she'd had great experiences with the templars there, even if it was no Kirkwall. Not to mention he had no way of knowing what Cassandra, Leliana – who had arguably seen him at his worst - or even Varric had told her about him.

At his tone, Evelyn looked up. She smiled, slightly, her eyes warming as they met his, "The way you looked at me earlier, outside I mean. It reminded me of the templars at the Circle – aloof yet vigilant. It was... something familiar I hadn't expected to see again."

Cullen raised an eyebrow, "That's an uncommon sentiment among mages these days."

"I grew up in a family of templars, Commander, as I'm sure you're aware. It is likely that I would have become one myself had I not developed magic," she shrugged, bitterness colouring her words.

The Commander's amber eyes searched hers, noticing the shadow that passed over them when she talked about her family. "I've done my best to leave that life behind me. My only loyalty is to the Inquisition now," he said softly, suddenly finding himself unable to meet the gaze of the woman next to him.

Evelyn smiled slightly, "I wasn't accusing, Commander, nor would I ever doubt your loyalty. I was just curious is all."

A small sigh of relief escaped his lips as he opened the door to the brisk mountain air, waiting for Evelyn to step outside before following behind her.

He looked at her one last time as she made to leave, giving her as much of a smile as he could muster, "Of course, you mages are always curious aren't you?"

"Without our curiosity, we'd never create enough trouble for you templars, wouldn't you say?" Evelyn quipped, flashing him a quick smile of her own, before turning to leave. "It was nice to meet you, Commander – consciously, this time."

As she walked off, Cullen tried to ignore the warmth blossoming his chest as he failed miserably at keeping the smile off of his face.


	4. Haven

As it turned out, work to be done was an understatement. They had agreed to send scouts out into the surrounding Hinterlands to assess the situation of their most immediate neighbours. Evelyn had been running errands for Harritt, Threnn, and Adan to make sure the scouts being sent out would be properly supplied, while the rest of the Inquisition was slowly being brought into existence.

In between the errands, and reports from the building of the Inquisition, Evelyn started to find herself a routine. She'd have breakfast with Varric and Solas in the tavern, listening to tales of Kirkwall, and slowly sharing her own of Ostwick. Even Solas began to open up, though often only as they sat outside his small cabin, gazing up at the Breach. He told her of the Fade, of elves and spirits. She shared what she'd learned of magic and theory in the Circle, appreciating the bald elf's insight that filled in gaps in what the Chantry allowed her to know. Ever so slowly, she found common ground with both of them, Varric appreciated her candid, pragmatic nature, Solas her curiosity and creative thinking. In return, Evelyn valued the dwarf's humour and the elf's insight. Both became indispensable to maintaining her sanity in a town that believed her to be a prophet's holy chosen one.

Cassandra and Leliana had both taken to the building of the Inquisition with unparalleled zeal. The spymaster mostly kept to herself, coordinating her scout's movements across the Hinterlands. Evelyn still couldn't read the woman, and if she was being honest with herself, the Orlesian intimidated her slightly. Cassandra, on the other hand, soon began to join them in the tavern in the evenings, and the mage found herself seeking her out in the training grounds to discuss things other than the Inquisitions progress. Evelyn did her best to get to know all of the advisors, though the most she saw of them for that first week was in the war room, planning.

Things finally started to come together – recruits started to trickle in, their infrastructure was slowly being improved. In all that, Evelyn began to find time for herself. At first, it was small moments – reading reports in her cabin by the fire long after everyone had gone to bed, or meditating by the lake before joining her small inner circle for breakfast in the tavern.

That's where she found herself this particular morning, standing on the frozen lake away from the still-sleeping town. Staff in hand, Evelyn ran herself through the same training exercises she'd go through every morning at the Circle. Moving let her clear her mind of the constant noise from the Fade. So close to the Breach, it was almost deafening and her dreams were plagued by both spirits and demons pressing on the weakened Veil. At least when she could focus on this – the worn stave between her hands, the footwork, the rippling flow of magic contained just below her skin – those trying to push through the Veil were easier to ignore.

* * *

Cullen squinted at the sunlight barely breaking through the thick canvas of his tent. After another night filled with nightmares and too little sleep, he decided simply to get up. Perhaps he could spend some time training before the rest of his men awakened.

He donned his armour with practiced ease before stepping out into the crisp morning air. All was quiet, even Harritt hadn't risen to light the forge yet. The sun had barely risen over the mountains, casting a golden glow over the town overlooking the lake. Standing at the training ground he saw a flash of movement down on the frozen water. Gripped by curiosity, he moved closer, trying to discern the figure practically dancing across the ice.

Halfway to the dock, Cullen noted that the woman wasn't dancing, but rather spinning a staff as if she were fighting an unseen foe. He recognized upon his approach that it was, in fact, the Herald – apparently the only other person awake at this ungodly hour. The Commander paused, amber eyes following her precise, yet graceful movements. Every so often he'd see sparks flash across her hands as if there was lighting trapped just beneath her skin. It took him reaching the edge of the dock, however, to feel the hum of magic around her as it ebbed and flowed with her movements. As a former templar, of course, he recognized the movements of one channelling arcane energy, but he had to marvel at the control she exhibited. It was as if Evelyn were putting all her focus into the precision of her movements, containing the essence of her magic within her. There was, Cullen decided, undeniable beauty and discipline to it all.

_Much like the woman herself_, he mused before he could stop himself, _Maker am I in trouble..._

Grumbling to himself, he reached the end of the wooden planks, just as Evelyn performed one final spin, planting her staff on the ice, letting small arcs of electricity crackle across the surface of the lake, tracing patterns around her like the branches of an ancient tree.

Cullen started as he watched the patterns trace themselves on the ice. The magic washed beneath his feet – he saw it happen, yet he barely felt it. Cautiously, he looked back up at the woman before him, only to realize that she had noticed him in his moment of distraction.

"Commander, I didn't realize..." Evelyn started, then trailed off, fidgeting nervously as she leaned on her staff.

Shaking himself out of his stupor he waved a hand dismissively, "Don't worry about it. I was simply out for a walk and noticed someone down on the lake. I didn't expect anyone else to be up this early."

Evelyn glanced at the newly patterned ice beneath her feet, suddenly self-conscious, "It's... It's quiet at this time of the morning. I figured I'd make people less nervous if I practiced... out here."

"It's beautiful."

Looking up, startled, Evelyn watched as Cullen gently stepped down onto the ice, bending down to one knee to observe it more closely. Gathering her thoughts, she walked over to crouch beside him. Her fingers, red from the cold and the rough wood of the staff, reached out to trace a particular branch as she spoke, "After the mages decided to rebel, all anyone at the Circle talked about was how to effectively fight the templars – neutral or not. Everything they studied was put to such a destructive use..." Her voice trailed off for a moment, and she kept her gaze pointedly on the ice in front of her, "I just think it's important that we remember that magic doesn't have to be inherently destructive – even if it is inherently dangerous."

She stood, dusting off her hands on her leather breeches and adopting a more jovial tone, "I will admit that when I first noticed you, I thought they may have sent the former Knight-Commander to keep me in line."

"I wouldn't... I'm not - " Cullen stammered, standing to defend himself against the notion until he saw the smirk pulling at her lips and the gleam in her eye, "Varric told you, didn't he?" Cullen huffed in annoyance.

Climbing back up onto the dock, the Commander turned to offer Evelyn a hand up. She accepted and clambered back up onto the wood.

"He mentioned that you stopped Knight-Commander Meredith from executing Hawke and fought with her against the rebellion. Varric may embellish a lot," she replied with a shrug, "but this time Cassandra confirmed it for me."

Cullen shook his head slightly; would that dwarf ever give him a break? "I'm sure if he ever stops, we'll know something is wrong."

Evelyn's laugh rang like chimes across the lake, seeming to light up her entire being, "I suppose you're right, Commander. Well, one of these days you could always join us for breakfast and defend your honour."

A light flush spread over her cheeks at the boldness of her offer, and Cullen paused for a moment. He'd known that Varric, Solas and even Cassandra had been spending more and more time around the Herald, their friendships growing as the days passed. He hadn't expected such an offer to be extended to him, however. He was just the Commander after all. In charge of the troops, of strategy. He couldn't deny, however, the joy that he felt at the prospect of this ever-growing mystery of a woman wanting to be friends.

"I think I would like that," Cullen said, meeting her gaze after what seemed like an eternity, "if you can do one thing for me."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, and nodded slowly, "Name it."

"Just call me Cullen," he averted his gaze slightly as he said it, but continued, "You're not one of my soldiers, and we wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Official business aside, I... wouldn't mind if we were on more familiar terms."

The surprise barely masked the delight that shone in Evelyn's eyes. She smiled and opened her mouth to say something when a messenger came running up to them.

"Commander, my lady Herald!" A young woman in scout's garb stopped with a short bow, panting for breath, "Lady Cassandra would like to see both of you in the war room."

Cullen sighed, "Of course, we'll be right there."

The scout saluted and ran off again. Cullen looked over to Evelyn, but the joyous light in her eyes had been replaced by her usual stoic mask. He would see it again, the Commander promised himself, even if it meant listening to Varric's extravagant tales over breakfast.

Evelyn motioned for them to keep walking, pausing at the top of the steps that lead to her cabin, "I'll meet you there, I'm just going to get cleaned up."

He nodded, walking off a few paces before her soft voice stopped him, "And Cullen? Thank you."

When Cullen turned to look at her, she'd already made it to the door of her cabin. With her back turned to him, Evelyn couldn't see the flush that rose unbidden to his cheeks when she used his name or the smile that softened the battle-hardened lines of his face ever so slightly.

* * *

Evelyn propped her staff up next to the chest where she stored her armour and rubbed some elfroot salve into her cracked palms. She could hear the sounds of the town beginning to rise and face a new day. Slowly it seemed as if everyone was settling into their new roles. There were growing pains, of course. Most of that was the lingering tension of the mages and the templars, but after so many years of seeing things in black and white, it was hard to put all that aside. Evelyn knew they'd have to find a way to do so eventually – the Breach and the demons it spit out didn't care what banner you were prepared to die under.

Shrugging her leather jerkin over her shoulders, Evelyn made her way out into Haven's streets. There was the hum of anticipation in the air, making the mage wonder why Cassandra had summoned them. Giving a quick wave to Varric as she passed him, the mage made her way to the Chantry.

Cullen, Leliana and Josephine stood outside the doors, looking out over the bustling city of Haven. With a nod to the advisors, Evelyn turned to see Cassandra approach, the soldiers saluting her as she passed. A subtly triumphant smile lit her usually stern face. It had been a long week, but finally, the Inquisition was getting organized. With a snap that made Evelyn turn to look behind her, a banner unfurled and declared their existence to the world.

Evelyn fell into step beside Cassandra as they made their way into the Chantry. The mage rubbed her hands together absentmindedly, the balm she'd applied still working to ease the tenderness of her palms.

"Does it trouble you?" Cassandra inquired, nodding to the mark.

Evelyn shrugged, "Not really."

Cassandra nodded, having come to expect the mage to maintain her stoic, steadfast presence, "What's important is that the Breach, as well as your mark, is now stable. Solas believes that a second attempt could be successful, provided the mark had more power."

"Oh yes, let's pour even more power into this thing that we barely understand. What could go wrong?"

Rolling her eyes slightly, the Seeker continued to the war room, "Hold onto that sense of humour, Evelyn."

With the Inquisitions founders and advisors gathered around the table, Cassandra got straight to business. "Now that we've all become acquainted, we must address the immediate threat. The fact is that we need more power if we are to close the Breach."

"I've sent word to the rebel mages at Redcliffe to ask for assistance," Leliana offered, from the leftmost end of the table.

Cullen, meanwhile, shook his head, "I still disagree. That much magic, so close to the Breach? It may only make things worse. I still say we approach the templars."

"Pure speculation," grey eyes narrowed in the direction of the Commander.

"We need power, Commander. With the mages help - "

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, "It's unpredictable at best," he looked up to meet the women's gazes, "I was a templar. I know what they're capable of."

Silence fell over the group for a moment before Josephine spoke up, "As it stands now, neither group will even speak to us. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition – and you in particular," she turned to Evelyn.

"Well, that didn't take them long," Evelyn crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

"Shouldn't they be arguing over who is going to become the next Divine?" Cullen looked to Josephine incredulously.

The Antivan shrugged, "Some have taken to calling you – a mage – the Herald of Andraste. The Chantry calls this blasphemy, and declares us heretics for harbouring you."

Cullen chuckled, "Now that's an impressive title. How do you feel about that?"

Evelyn just shook her head, "I don't even know anymore."

"It would seem the Chantry has decided that for you," the warrior concluded, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"There is something you can do," the spymaster stepped forward, "A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you by name. She's at the Crossroads in the Hinterlands."

Emerald eyes widened, "Why would a Chantry Mother want to talk to a declared heretic?"

"Perhaps she is of a reasonable sort, and doesn't agree with her sisters?" Leliana shrugged, "I have scouts who have seen her in the Crossroads helping the refugees. Until the situation is stabilized, she insists on staying there."

"Try to find other ways to extend the reach of the Inquisition while you're out there," Cullen supplied before Josephine interjected.

"Yes, we need agents if our influence is ever to extend past this valley."

_And how am I supposed to do that?_ Evelyn thought, the weight of what they had to do pressing heavily on her shoulders. Cassandra, with her uncanny timing, however, came to the rescue.

"In the meantime, we must find other ways. I won't leave all this to the Herald."

The advisors around the table nodded, their attention turning to the map. Evelyn, for her part, breathed a small sigh of relief. It was foolish to think they'd leave it all up to her. After all, she was just here because of the mark on her hand – her ability to close the rifts. These people, they all knew what they were doing. They were meant to be here. Evelyn knew it was just the confluence circumstances that had brought her to this table.

_You're here now. Make it count._

"What are these?" Evelyn motioned to the stack of papers bearing various seals from across Ferelden.

"Requests for aid from the Inquisition. Some people have heard of our formation and see us as a solution where the Chantry or the Crown cannot – or will not – act," the Ambassador supplied, "We can use a variety of methods to deal with the majority of them, between Leliana's agents, Cullen's forces and my contacts. I'd value your input as to how best to handle them when you have the time."

The Antivan smiled at Evelyn as the latter began to leaf through the requests, murmuring, "I don't know what insight I'll be able to provide."

The requests varied greatly, and the mage started to absentmindedly shuffle them around into a semblance of order as she read through them. Looking up after a few moments, she realized that the rest of the group was staring at her, slightly bemused looks playing across their faces.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't keep you," she fought the rising flush to her cheeks, trying to appear as confident as possible, "I'll get some thoughts to you before I leave the valley in the morning if that's acceptable?" Evelyn looked from Josephine to Cullen and Leliana.

Josephine nodded, "Of course Herald. Let us meet before you depart."

"In the morning, then."

Everyone took the Herald's decisive tone as a cue that they were done and slowly filed out of the room. Tucking the sheaf of papers underneath her arm, Evelyn followed the war council out into Haven. After running her last few errands – delivering Master Taigen's notes to the surly alchemist and filling Threnn's weapon requisition – she met with Varric and Solas in the tavern for lunch. Having informed of them of the plans to head out to the Hinterlands the next morning, they worked out a preliminary plan of how to approach the Crossroads and gain support in the region. By the time they were done, the sun had reached its zenith and Evelyn bade her friends farewell to return to her cabin.

Stoking what was left of the embers burning in her fireplace, Evelyn sat cross-legged on her bed and spread the papers out in front of her. Finally able to enjoy some solitary peace, she set to work.

* * *

Organized chaos was the best way Cullen could describe his training grounds currently. Messengers were constantly running back and forth, and it felt as though one was always hanging right at his elbow. Rylen was off working on an evaluation of their unfortunately limited supply lines so he was here trying his best to supervise the recruits. They'd been running through drills for the hours since the war room meeting that morning, and by now the sun had already passed its highest point in the mercifully clear skies.

Must be time for a break soon, the Commander mused, though the possibility of him getting a break was nearly non-existent.

A faltering recruit caught his eye and he barked across the training yard, "You there! There's a shield in your hand, block with it! If that man were an enemy, you'd be dead," he shook his head and turned to the lieutenant standing next to him, "Don't hold back, lieutenant. These people need to be ready for a real fight, not a practice one."

Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of silver hair and light glinting off the top of a staff caught his attention.

"Run them through it again, then break for lunch."

The lieutenant saluted as Cullen turned to follow the Herald down to the dock. He watched as she rolled her shoulders before sitting down, her feet dangling over the edge so that her leather boots scuffed the ice. It was with no small amount of regret the Commander saw the patterns from earlier had melted away in the afternoon sun.

"Long day, Herald?" He asked when he stood about five paces behind her.

Thin shoulders shrugged, "I'm just glad we're making progress," a short pause followed and then, "Also, it's Evelyn."

She glanced back at Cullen, who just looked at her slightly slackjawed. Softly, she continued, "Outside of official duties, I wouldn't mind being on more familiar terms."

A smirk tugged at Cullen's lips, "I suppose it's only fair," he conceded.

Evelyn nodded and looked back out over the lake, "You seem to have your hands full."

"We've gotten quite a few new recruits, from the Conclave, refugees, some pilgrims. None made quite the entrance that you did, however."

A short laugh bubbled up to Evelyn's lips, "Well, at least I made it memorable."

"That you did," Cullen nodded, half-sitting on one of the posts along the edge of the dock, "I was recruited in Kirkwall myself. Cassandra had come looking for answers, and a leader for the Inquisition forces if it was to be formed. When she offered me the position, I left the Order and joined her. No one is poised to stand against this chaos – now we have a chance to act where others could not. Our people, they could be a part of that, of something better. There's so much..."

The Commander trailed off, realizing that he'd been rambling, "I'm sorry. I doubt you want to hear a lecture."

Evelyn smiled at the man next to her. The passion with which he spoke made it easy to listen to him. A moment of boldness overtook her, and she told him as much. "I hadn't planned on it, but if you have one prepared, I'd love to hear it."

"Another time then," Cullen said, meeting her gaze as she smiled. It was as if her whole face lit up and made his brain completely grind to a halt, "Yes, ah... There's still much to be done."

As if on cue, a messenger bearing Rylen's supply line report came running up. Not knowing whether to thank or curse the Maker for the man's timing, Cullen accepted the report. As he turned to walk back with the messenger, he threw over his shoulder, "As I was saying. We'll talk later, Evelyn."

Evelyn, for her part, stayed where she was, basking in solitude once more. Looking out over the lake, she decided that maybe the fluttering in her chest wasn't so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter four has arrived. It's a little longer but I think this is a good length. Thanks to everyone that's faved/followed/reviewed, I'm glad people are enjoying the story.
> 
> Reviews appreciated; flames used to roast marshmallows, you know the drill.
> 
> ~Insert usual disclaimer about not owning the original content and only playing with it for a while, promising to return it in (mostly) one piece. Not getting paid, etc etc.~


	5. Crossroads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evelyn returns from the Crossroads. Cullen learns of the extent to which the Herald put others before herself, and Evelyn learns that there are demons still haunting the Commander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late, I know. Finals and procrastination will do that to you.
> 
> The usual - I don't own them, wish I did. Reviews and kudos are always appreciated. Flames are used to roast marshmallows.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Cullen entered the war room to find Evelyn already there, pouring over the map. Small marker dotted it, indicating the origin of the various reports she'd started on the day before.

"Do you ever sleep?" he inquired, half-jokingly.

"Isn't that a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, Cullen?" the mage retorted with a raised eyebrow and wry smile.

With a soft laugh of his own and a shrug, he joined her at the table, looking over the various points she'd marked.

"You've been busy. Josephine will be thrilled."

It was Evelyn's turn to shrug, "Everyone else has been hard at work, why shouldn't I be? Anyways, she might not feel that way when she sees how I've divided the work."

Cullen looked over at the piles she'd motioned to, taking the one weighted down by the forces' marker – a small iron statuette of a clenched fist.

"I take it these are mine?"

Evelyn nodded, "I don't think skulking around is your thing," she looked at the other two stacks, one marked by a raven and the other by a banner, "and I know you'd sooner throw yourself into the lake than take Josephine's pile."

Chancing a glance at the top of the diplomat's pile, he was quick to agree. Demons, mages and renegade knight-commanders were relatively well within his grasp but the political intricacies and bureaucratic knots that Josephine proved so adept at navigating were beyond him.

"I think it's safer for me to stick to these," he waved the stack that Evelyn had put aside for him.

Finally standing back from the table, she turned her gaze to the Commander, "You're Fereldan, yes?"

Cullen nodded, unsure of where this was going.

"Are you glad to be back?" Evelyn looked down slightly, "I never thought I'd be allowed to leave Ostwick, to be honest. It's… taking some getting used to."

The man leaned back, resting both his hands on the pommel of his sword, "I left shortly after the Blight ended about ten years ago, after the Circle… well, frankly fell apart. Honestly, I never expected to return. When Cassandra recruited me in Kirkwall, the war and rebellion were in full swing, so now I find only chaos here. I guess the truth is… I don't know."

Evelyn nodded, her eyes distant, "I always wanted to see the rest of Thedas, ever since I was a child. I grew up watching my older siblings travel all over the Free Marches, Ferelden, even occasionally going to Orlais. I could never get enough of their tales…" her eyes shone with something Cullen couldn't quite place as she talked softly about her past, "By the time I was old enough to join them, my magic was too powerful to be outside of the Circle. Regardless, they didn't particularly – Anyways," she laughed mirthlessly, "what I meant to say was that this is never how I thought I would see the world."

The Commander studied the woman they'd all come to see as the Herald of Andraste carefully. She looked exhausted – for all her self-deprecating remarks, she had worked just as hard, if not harder to help build up the Inquisition. If not running errands for Threnn or Harritt, he'd often seen her helping the healers as best she could with her magic. There was also something a little forlorn in her eyes. He knew that aside from the war council and her friends in Varric and Solas, the mage was given a rather large berth – be it due to her magic, or supposed holy status. They, at least, had all chosen to be here. Evelyn had just been dragged into it – whether by the Maker, fate, or sheer dumb luck. She hadn't wanted a part in this war, yet here they were looking to her for guidance and salvation.

"I'm sorry," he began, not quite sure what he was apologizing for, "for what it's worth, I – all of us – are glad you decided to stay."

Surprise lit emerald eyes before a grateful smile spread across Evelyn's face. She ducked her head to hide the blush that was surely colouring her cheeks as she spoke, "Thanks, Cullen. I just hope I can help, that everyone's trust isn't completely misplaced."

Just as he was about to reply, the door swung open and the remaining members of the war council swept into the room. Unsurprised that the other two were already there, Cassandra looked at Evelyn and remarked dryly, "Starting as early as ever I see, Herald."

Evelyn smirked, "Between work and listening to Varric complain how early it is, I choose work."

The Seeker scoffed at the thought as Evelyn handed Leliana and Josephine the requests she'd assigned them. She felt much more self-conscious dealing with these poised and refined women than with Cassandra or Cullen. Templars she could understand, she'd been raised around soldiers of faith her entire life. With these two in particular, in recent weeks Evelyn had also begun to feel much more at ease – she and Cassandra were approaching something dangerously close to friendly, and Cullen had proven himself to be a calm, steady presence amongst everything else. The Nightingale and the Ambassador, however, made her feel seven feet tall and awkward. She didn't know if she feared their scorn or their disappointment more. They'd put a lot of trust in her, and if she were being honest with herself, she didn't quite know why. It seemed as if Leliana and Cassandra were infinitely more qualified than she was to run this whole Inquisition thing. It wasn't as if the mark on her hand had given her magical powers of leadership and insight as well as the rifts.

Maker, I wish it had, she thought, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve as she waited for Leliana and Josephine to break the silence.

"Thank you for your input, Herald. I'll get started on this right away," Josephine finally looked up from the papers she was holding, a soft smile on her lips.

Leliana nodded in agreement, "We should be ready to report back by the time you are back from the Crossroads if all goes well."

A soft sigh of relief escaped Evelyn's lips, her shoulders relaxing as the spymaster continued, "Our scouts are expecting you. Speak with Harding, she should be able to point you in the right direction."

Cassandra folded her arms as she looked over the map, "I'll go have them saddle the horses. If we ride straight through, we should make it by midday."

"With those horses?" Cullen scoffed, "You're looking at sundown at best. Herald, while you're out there, see if they have any information about an old man named Dennet. He was Arl Eamon's horse master at Redcliffe, we tried to contact him about getting mounts for the Inquisition but no one's seen hide nor hair of him."

"Anything is better than walking at this point," Evelyn smirked at the Commander, "I'll do my best to find him."

Cullen nodded, "He's a tough old bastard, but a good ally if we can get him on my side. From what I remember, Dennet might be prickly but it's rarely personal."

The Herald grinned, "With my winning personality, wit and charm? He won't stand a chance."

Cassandra rolled her eyes as Leliana and Josephine hid laughter behind gloved hands. The ex-templar gave her his classic smirk and a look that said 'I'm not going there.'

Not that he thought she was wrong, sarcasm aside. Maker, as if he'd ever tell her that. There's a hole in the sky and a war going on. No time. There was never time.

The women turned to head out of the town to start the day, and the Commander shook himself out of his stupor to follow before anyone noticed his absentmindedness. At the doors to the Chantry, the group split – Leliana and Josephine to start on their duties, Cassandra to saddle the horses and Cullen to go oversee the recruit training.

Evelyn for her part had rounded up an eager Solas and a complaining Varric and they trotted down to the stables together. True to form, the dwarf let off more than a few quips along the lines of "the sun is barely awake so why should we be?" and "you expect a dwarf to ride a horse?"

Evelyn and Solas shared an amused glance as they arrived at the stables.

"Come on Varric, it'll be fun. If you'd rather I'm sure we could fit you into a pack instead," Evelyn ribbed her friend good-naturedly as she swung herself up into the saddle with practiced ease.

Varric looked at her indignantly as she offered him a hand. The mage leaned down and half-whispered to the rogue, "You could always try asking Cassandra to ride with her instead."

Horror crossed the dwarf's face and he clambered up behind Evelyn on the piebald plough horse that was her mount. Nodding to her other two companions, they made to depart.

* * *

The Crossroads were a mess, to say the least. Apostates and rogue templars were killing each other – and civilians – indiscriminately. Thankfully, between the help of Inquisition forces already in the area, and the prowess of the Herald's team, the area was secured. The Inquisition leaders had been receiving regular reports for the past couple weeks, as Evelyn has stayed in the Hinterlands to help the refugees and find the horse master.

Cullen shook his head as he scanned the latest report. He couldn't deny that she'd been doing good work out there – they were getting more recruits by the day – but he wished she'd come back soon. On the surface, he'd argue that she should be here, helping to shape and lead the Inquisition from within, that there were matters that needed her attention before going to Val Royeaux. Of course, he knew that those were just excuses. Truthfully, he missed her wit and levelheadedness amongst the conflicting priorities of the rest of the war council. Not to mention that he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss the mornings by the lake, or the small moments she gave him to escape during the day.

A sigh relaxed his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair. The sun was dipping below the horizon, and exhaustion was heavy on his shoulders. His eyes drooped closed as his head fell backwards.

Just when he thought sleep would take him, the soft clatter of hooves over the rocky ground outside roused the Commander. Peeking out the flap of his tent, he saw that the training ground was lit by a deep red glow as the sun had almost finished its journey across the sky. Voices floated to his ears through the opening – Varric's familiar Kirkwall accent, Cassandra chastising him for something or another, Solas' lilting interjections and finally Evelyn's soft laughter.

Cullen smiled, subconsciously. Stretching, the Commander stood, spilling a stack of papers from his lap onto the floor.

"Maker's breath," he grumbled as he bent down to straighten out the mess on his floor.

Everything back to its state of military organization, he pushed open his tent and stooped through the opening. The returning party had dispersed, scouts taking care of their mounts as they no doubt went in search of warm food and beds.

An Orlesian voice from behind him caught his attention, "Lady Herald, I must insist you get some rest! These men will be fine through the night, the rest -"

The tirade broke off abruptly, followed by a shout from the healer's tents. Cullen turned and had jogged to the edge of the healer's camp before he had a chance to think. Mother Giselle, having set up a space for the healers as soon as she'd arrived in Haven a week prior, was knelt next to the prone form of one Evelyn Trevelyan.

"What happened?" Cullen barked, probably more harshly than he should have.

Mother Giselle turned, one eyebrow arched at the Commander. He sighed, raising his hands apologetically.

The cleric nodded slightly to him, "She insisted on helping those that have come back injured from the Crossroads. It seems that the Herald pushed herself beyond her limits, concealing her injuries instead of treating them."

Anticipating what the soldier was going to ask, she continued, "She'll be fine with a little rest and a healing potion. Perhaps you could bring her back to her cabin, however?"

Cullen nodded, "Thank you, Revered Mother. I'll do that."

Bending down, he lifted the Herald into his arms, remarking to himself that this better not become a habit. She hadn't even changed out of her travelling gear – the leather armour beginning to show the wear of constant use. The mage must have drained herself almost completely with the magic, normally he could sense it this close but now it was if she weren't even a mage.

Deciding to avoid the commotion of carrying the unconscious Herald of Andraste through the evening crowd of Haven, Cullen instead brought her to his tent, laying Evelyn on the bed and throwing a light blanket over her before sitting back at his desk to finish going through the day's paperwork.

* * *

Evelyn cursed softly as she awoke yet again in an unfamiliar place. Silently, she chastised herself for what was, unfortunately, becoming a habit. She was in a tent – not the healer's tent which is where she figured she'd collapsed. Everything was silent, and a candle burned low on a desk – like someone had forgotten it.

Her eyes drifted, and she realized that 'someone' was Cullen, who'd drifted off at his desk, head on his arms which he'd folded over a stack of papers. Sitting up properly, Evelyn shook her head slightly to clear it. She could feel the flow of magic running through her body again, much to her relief. The ache in her muscles was manageable – it would be easy enough just to slip away back to her cabin, to let the Commander rest.

Doesn't look very comfortable, though, she mused, standing on wobbly legs.

Making up her mind, she moved to gently shake the owner of the tent awake, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that commented on the way his hair fell into his face as he slept, or the way the glow of the candle softened his features. As she approached, however, she could almost feel the tension radiating off of the man, even in slumber. His lips twitched downward, face tightening and contorting as if in pain.

Sensing he was being plagued by some sort of nightmare, Evelyn reached out a hand to gently place on his shoulder. Amber eyes flashed open, locking onto hers without really seeing her and her arm was in a vicelike grip. She tried to suppress the wince that tugged at her face at the force with which Cullen grabbed her arm, his other hand open at his side.

An unmistakeable light gathered in his palm and Evelyn felt the cold fear wash over her. This wasn't her friend staring at her anymore – he was a templar, caught so deep in his past he didn't see her, didn't see the magic she wielded as beautiful.

The light grew brighter, illuminating both their faces in its stark, white glow. The mage felt paralyzed – not by any templar ability, but by fear alone. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times before words finally pushed past her lips, sounding much calmer than she felt.

"Cullen."

* * *

Would the demons never leave him be? Every night, he was eighteen years old again – scared, hurt, reality slipping away beneath his feet. It was magic: the mages and their blood rituals to summon demons to tear his friends' minds apart.

Someone touched his shoulder, the prison evaporated and he opened his eyes. All he saw was a pair of emerald green eyes staring back at him, and all he felt was the soft hum of the magic behind them. He wasn't weak, he told himself. He wasn't helpless. The energy gathered in his hand like a reflex. One smite, that's all it would take and he would be free from this demon.

"Cullen."

The voice cut through the lingering haze from the dream. His breath rang heavy and ragged in his ears, and he could feel his fingers digging into something soft, a cramp working its way into his wrist from the force.

_Evelyn_.

His gaze cleared, falling to where he held the woman's arm probably to the point of bruising through her leather coat. Then he noticed the light, still gathered around his hand and reflecting off of the mage's eyes.

_The mage._

Of course, that was the magic that he'd felt. He was in his tent. With the Inquisition. Not at the Circle, not in Kirkwall. And he was still holding her in a death-grip. He let her go, dropping his gaze to the floor as the light faded from around his hand. Cullen hadn't missed the fear that seemed to keep her frozen there in front of him. To know that he was the one that had caused it...

"Do you want to talk about it?" Cool fingers lifted his chin so that Cullen's eyes would meet Evelyn's.

Mutely, he shook his head. How could he? What would he say? That he had almost brought down the holy smite, one of the most deadly and painful punishments a templar could upon a mage, on her head because he had a nightmare?

Evelyn kept her fingers there a moment longer before moving back to sit on the bed, fiddling again with the hem of her sleeve to hide the trembling of her hands.

"I'm sorry."

Cullen's voice was a hoarse whisper as he fell to the floor in front of Evelyn. He rested his forehead on her knees, ashamed to show such weakness in front of this woman they'd all come to regard as their unspoken leader.

"Know that... That I would never..." His voice faltered, but he continued in the barest of whispers, "I would never do that to you. I meant what I said on the lake."

Slender fingers carded themselves through his hair, soothing the tension from his body and his spirit.

"I know," Evelyn spoke softly, surely.

She did – she trusted Cullen implicitly. One day, she hoped, he would trust her enough to tell her what demons still haunted him.

The mage felt Cullen sigh, his next words almost being lost to the ground at which he stared, "I'm sorry. Just... for a moment. If I could..."

_Maker, as if I could deny him anything,_ she told herself, continuing to run her fingers through his hair, hoping to bring him whatever small measure of comfort that she could.

There they remained for what could have been hours, until she broke the silence, "So... I'm guessing that Mother Giselle had you take me away from the healer's tent?"

Without looking up, he nodded, "I didn't want to cause a panic that the Herald of Andraste had collapsed, so I figured bringing you here was a better idea. You must be thinking that the panic was a better option by now," he finished ruefully.

Evelyn laughed, "Oh no. The last thing I need is everyone hovering. And then they'd feel bad that they let me heal them before riding back, Cassandra and Varric will go all big sibling on me and Solas will just look disappointed. No, I'd much rather be here."

Amber eyes finally met hers, and she smiled. In a more serious tone, she continued, "I mean it, Cullen. No hard feelings, alright?"

Standing, she brushed herself off, "And that includes you beating yourself up over this. Okay?"

All Cullen could do was nod dumbly – any words he may have wanted to say were stuck in his throat. If he was being honest, that was probably for the best anyways. He stood, glancing around uncertainly until rash impulse took over and he pulled Evelyn to his chest, being sure to treat her more gently than in his half-awake state.

"Thank you," he murmured into her hair as he felt her slender arms wrap around him and return the hug.

She just nodded into his armour, enjoying this small moment of peace more than she probably should. Soon Cullen was holding her at arm's length once again, a gentle hand on his shoulder, "You should be more careful, Evelyn. Take care of yourself too," he paused slightly, then finished, "If you ever need anything..."

"I know where to come if I do," the mage replied with a smile, "Get some sleep, Cullen."

With a final clap of his shoulder, she ducked out into the crisp night air and Cullen was sure that Evelyn took all the air out of both the tent and his lungs, with her.


End file.
